


Marty and the Polaroid

by rael_ellan



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Caitlin and Harry are here too, Cisco can hear them trying to save him, Gen, Introspection, but not enough to clog their tags up, set during 02x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rael_ellan/pseuds/rael_ellan
Summary: Cisco's thoughts during that scene in s02e11 when he's seizing and Barry has to choose to save him, or to hang on to his revenge.





	Marty and the Polaroid

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be the start of a very, _very_ long story, in which Cisco fell through the void and into different versions of himself. I have other fragments of it, here and there, and perhaps someday I'll even put them together, but I started writing this in 2015, so it's not got fantastic odds. 
> 
> For now, here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

He could feel hands on him, pushing him down. Familiar hands - Barry, Caitlin. He could feel the callouses on Joe’s palm through his shirt, Harry’s grip just that side of too tight on his shoulder. Then Caitlin was gone, and there was pressure instead, a sudden flash of pain in his leg - _oh thank God_ \- as Caitlin injected him with something. That would help, right? She knew what she was doing, she was good at this. 

The tremors in his body slowly started to die down. After this he was going to bed, he decided. A proper bed for some actual sleep, and to hell with the nightmares. He deserved a lie in, and not even Harry could argue with him after this. Probably. Though, again, _nightmares_. Maybe just a day off and a day in with Netflix and a pizza would be a better idea. Yeah. Hadn’t had a day off in a while. 

He focused on the feel of the bed at his back. Damn, but it was hard. No wonder Barry hated staying in it so much. Maybe he should adjust this for his next project, invent a new kind of material to line it, just for kicks. Cover over that bolt against his shoulder, that second one rubbing against his hip. 

And then the darkness closed in again. 

The bed was gone, pulled away from him like a sheet and left him floating in a void, suspended again. Shit. He tried to move, to reach for Barry’s hand, or Caitlin’s, but he couldn’t feel anything anymore. 

“What’s going on? _Where the hell am I?”_

Had he said that out loud? It sounded strange, distant. Like he was hearing it back as a recording, or on voicemail. 

“Cisco!”

Barry. That was Barry, he could still hear Barry’s voice. That was good. Maybe he hadn’t gone anywhere, maybe he was still on that bed and was just… drifting somehow. He could hear Harry, now. He couldn’t quite make out the words (and he tried not to think too much about how horrifying a concept that was), but the harsh, rapid-fire tones were definitely his. 

That was good, too. Probably. Harry was smart, and he was kind of more up on the vibe thing than they were. He sounded excited, the way he did when he had a sudden burst of inspiration. It still felt wrong, still rankled, somehow, that he was completely different to their Dr. Wells, who had always been calm and collected, even when making his most dramatic discoveries. He’d been quietly amazed, awed even, but had never stumbled over his words or left his thoughts half-finished in his desperation to write everything down.

Of course, that could have been because he’d never _actually_ discovered anything, just ridden the back of the _real_ Harrison Wells, deceased, or a myriad of other great scientists who hadn’t been born yet. 

The anger rose up inside him as it always did, but a moment later it was gone, as though it had been sucked away. He paused to focus on that feeling, just for a moment. 

Oh no. No, no, no, no, _no!_

It wasn’t a void. There was something there in the emptiness behind him, something waiting. He could feel it, now, reaching out for his back, inching forwards like some ghost in a horror movie. 

“Cisco is being affected,” Harry’s voice said, as urgent as he’d ever heard it, “to- to- by the _changes_ , in the timeline.”

And that… that made a creepy kind of sense. 

Without the Reverse Flash, Vibe would never have existed. And that’s who he was now, wasn’t it? Cisco Ramon was gone, replaced by Vibe. 

Cisco tried to force a smile. 

_Marty and the Polaroid._

That movie was officially ruined, now.

The thing in the darkness brushed against him, and he screamed. It was emptiness, pure, gaping, nothing, and please, God, no, _please, no._

The voices surged above him. Was that Joe, joining in the argument? 

“Quit arguing and help me!” he tried to shout, “Barry, please, please help me.”

Barry would save him. That was what Barry did. He was a hero, and he was a friend, and he was a damn _loyal_ friend and Cisco knew that he’d do anything to protect people. Barry would save him, get him away from this. Right?

The voices drifted down, no less panicked, but more reasonable, and he struggled against the cold void that was closing around his legs, kicking wildly, listening for Barry’s voice, for The Flash.

“...I _can’t!_ ”

Barry’s voice cut through the netherworld like a knife. Cold seeped into Cisco’s heart and the terrible numbness tugged at him like a fish on a hook, and he lost his grip on the world.


End file.
